Practice makes.. it worse [ Avu ]

[rii]

How many times do I have to chase the fish back before you catch one?

"Shut up."

I understand you don't fish often, but I'd think after this long even you'd learn.

"Shut. Up."

Golden eyes flicked an irritated glare at the blue-gray muzzle sticking out of the water. Saboth responded by snorting, sending a fine spray of water across the rocks on which F'lix currently crouched. Growling, F'lix dipped his bare foot into the river and vainly kicked the water in the direction of his oh-so-amused dragon. "Stop babbling and go get some more."

Saboth rumbled in laughter before his muzzle disappeared under the water's surface. He became near invisible in the water. His hide, that gave the illusion of shifting between light and dark hues, blended in with the light that danced through the flowing water. He moved gracefully through the river, scaring fish from other areas and slowly herding them--using the paler underside of his wings to coax them in a desired direction--into the medium sized eddy.

On one of the farthest rocks perched F'lix, stripped of his usual riding leathers and blades (they were piled up on the dry shore). Both pants and shirts were rolled up to the joints and he crouched low on his heels with his cat-like eyes staring down into the calm waters with an eerie stillness. In his hand he held a crude spear--one meant only for practice. And yes, he was attempting to spear any fish that swan near.

Sploosh.

F'lix arm extended lightning quick and this time he swore he felt the sharp tip pierce his prey. "Aha--" The young rider began to stand to his feet, to pull up the spear to display his victory to his doubting dragon. Except, his foot slipped off the side of his small perch. F'lix dropped the spear in favor of frantically windmilling his arms about to try and stay upright. Only one foot remained on the rock while the other kicked out to try and correct his stance--

Ker-splash!

Gravity won.

[Avu]

“Well, that was graceful.”

Exactly who had asked R’ahre his opinion? Absolutely nobody. Did that stop him from giving it? Absolutely not. The blueweyrling normally wouldn’t be so blunt around someone that he didn’t know the first thing about, but he was in an undeniably sour mood – which had become a rarity since he’d Impressed Ahth. The blue amused him to no end, usually. Of late, however, he’d found a new target: Lennae. Amith’s. This involved peering through his memories, and R’ahre had discovered that closing his mind to Ahth and what he should not see was ridiculously difficult. However, that only mildly exasperated him – what had tipped his temper over the edge was the mishmash of chores that his days had become: Lessons, Chores, feed and bathe Ahth, feed and bathe Sylph and occasionally Skink, Chores – there was no time for life anymore and since Chores seemed to be quite unnecessary given that they’d already completed them during Candidacy and that meant he’d been doing Chores for nigh on five Turns, R’ahre had protested. Not that he actually did Chores while he was supposed to, but still – he was by no means a patient person, as one of the Drudges who had scolded him had found out.

So, yes. He had been ejected from the kitchens (to a mix of his irritation and relief), with the promise that the Weyrlingmaster would be informed. Well, so be it. The blueweyrling had gathered his two mindmates, both of whom had been willing to give up their tasks (eavesdropping on people for Ahth; happily shredding records in the Archives for Sylph) and had set off to go fume somewhere quiet and alone where people couldn’t agitate him more. Watching a bluerider fall into the water, however, had very nicely distracted him, and R’ahre stopped, eyeing F’lix curiously before his gaze slid to Saboth. Did he – did he recognize them? A slightly perplexed frown turned the corners of his mouth downwards, and one hand brushed over Ahth’s back, the dark blue dragonet winding around his legs before he gave a soft chuff in his throat that was only to be described as laughter.

Sylph, sliding like green lightning from his shoulder to his forearm, frilled curiously, tail winding around R’ahre’s arm to hold herself in place. Pretty, she said, and the word was obviously intended as an insult (all credit went straight to Showoff). Ahth glanced at the green before the blue hatchling padded to the edge of the river, reaching in and snatching up the shaft of the spear and pulling it out of the water. If there had been a fish on it, there no longer was; the hatchling silently tilted his head to avoid smacking either end of the spear into anyone or anything and moved back to R’ahre, sitting down with the spear still held in his teeth neatly. Saboth earned a curious look – His vaguely recognized the blue, but Ahth didn’t at all; that meant he was from That Place, the Before Place – or that His was mistaken, which R’ahre admitted he might be; he had been nothing short of antisocial at Benden Weyr, after all.

I believe this belongs to Yours? he inquired calmly of the blue, though he didn’t release the spear until R’ahre reached down and took it from him thoughtfully, eyes landing upon the pile of riding leathers and blades not far away. He was dressed much more casually, though there was a dirk around his waist visible, and one hidden in his boot – as always. The spear was tossed lightly onto the grass towards F’lix, and he commented quietly, controlling his temper (which had faded; F’lix’s tumble was undeniably amusing), “You’re lucky you didn’t manage to land on this – and that it didn’t just wash away. Have you tried not dropping it? I think you’d probably get a lot more fish that way…” His eyes rose to Saboth and he nodded politely in greeting at the blue dragon, though he didn’t speak; Ahth could introduce them both to the dragon when the hatchling wanted to – if he wanted to, and he didn’t expect to be addressed by Saboth anyway. Why should he waste his breath?

So pretty, Sylph repeated. Oh, she was the queen of insults, she was…

[rii]

F'lix stood up, the water coming up to the middle of his chest. Silent, yet colorful curses fell from his moving lips. He looked the part of a drowned cat; his ink black hair and thin clothing clung to his lithe form, making his already small frame even more delicate. F'lix raised his hands to slick his long bangs out of his face, full exposing the dark red scars that ran down his face, neck and chest; marks that contrasted heavily against his pale skin and were usually hid from view.

He slowly began to wade toward shore, eyes closed, head tilted back and long fingers in his hair trying to weave out the frustration. At least until he heard the voice. Instantly F'lix dropped low, crouching into the water so it lapped at his shoulders. His fingers curled around the first objects he found to serve as a suitable weapons: rocks. Golden eyes slitted dangerously at the unwanted visitor. He half expected it to be that blasted Fort rider, but was greeted by the sight of a Weyrling and a.. blue dragonet.

Hatred hardened his glare directed, not at the male, but on the small dragon. Close enough to the one F'lix recalled from his past, the very one who had given him the trio of claw marks when he was a child. It brought on a flash of those memories, of feeling Saboth dying why he laid unconsciously in the infirmary. A wave of unbridled anger brought on a rush of adrenaline and F'lix stood fast, arm cocking back--

You may want to duck, little one.

--And flinging the rock with alarming accurary at the small blue dragonet. He took the rock from his other hand, shifted his aim and launched it at R'ahre. If the weyrling had any confusion of F'lix origins, the seemingly pointless act of violence should remove any of that doubt. So too should the northern accent he unleashed. "You'd do better to wish I had fallen on it you little flitter-brained wherry."

He seemed to snarl at the other, who was far from being little (as F'lix himself was a few feet shorter than R'ahre) but he made no show of it. The way he fumed while coming up onto the shore would have given any person good reason to get lost, and fast--but being drenched to the bone, water dripping from every tip, did not add points to F'lix threatening demeanor.

Mine is not a very good fisher, Saboth spoke calmly, clearly amused. The blue-gray dragon had also made his way to the shore, pulling himself up onto the bank and fanning his long wings out to dry. He rumbled at the others, close enough to intervene in case his mindmate attacked--a very likely case. Sigh.

[Avu]

Duck? Ahth did precisely that; more out of instinct than actual thought, the dark blue hatchling twisted to present his side and flank to the rock instead of his head or wings, but R’ahre moved faster, catching the rock before it could strike Ahth. He didn’t wince – but it was very close; his palm would undoubtedly be bruised within an hour or so from the force with which the rock had struck. Dropping the rock, he ducked out of the way of the other – or tried to, anyway; it clipped his arm upper arm and earned an outraged screech from Sylph. The Salamandyr frilled, her entire body puffing up in indignation, and spread both wings to launch herself off of R’ahre’s arm, only to deflate again at his mental warning. Normally, even that would not have stopped her; Sylph knew that she could get away with nearly anything when it came to Hers; he’d even make excuses, lie for her, adore her, pamper her all the same. But this was different; there was an undeniable venomous rage now, something that Sylph had almost never felt before. Not to that intensity; even Emoyan had never made him so angry – and neither had any of the attacks on Selenitas.

But Ahth. Ahth had done nothing to deserve having a rock pitched at him. R’ahre wouldn’t have cared half as much had it only been thrown at him – but it hadn’t been. Ahth had been on the receiving end; not that it had struck the blue – and that made him beyond angry. If his temper had faded at all, it reignited again. The irritation was very different from this cold rage; he hadn’t wanted to hurt any of the Drudges. Not seriously, not to this extent. Swallowing the anger before it could show on his face, R’ahre bowed his head to glance back at Ahth, and found the blue hatchling seated next to him, eyes focused on F’lix with an odd kind of detachment. This one was not good. He would pay. How, Ahth had not figured out yet, but he had memorized the face (not a hard thing to do, given the scarring) and the one who wore it would pay. That HisR’ahre wanted to make him pay, too, only encouraged Ahth.

R’ahre’s face had turned hard and cold, though he didn’t move; the spear was twirled in his hand almost thoughtfully, his head bowed enough that his hair fell across his eyes. It didn’t matter anymore where F’lix was from, though some small part of him recognized it and acknowledged it – nobody touched Ahth. At all. Never. Do not be angry, MineR’ahre. We will take care of him together, but you need not get hurt in doing so. Ahth’s mental voice was a purr as he wound himself around R’ahre’s legs again, eyes gleaming thoughtfully at F’lix. Do not worry. Someday he will wish that he never was alive; I guarantee it – but I will not have you hurt for trying. Physical pain is not the kind that is the most humiliating. Prioritize, MineR’ahre. Leave it for now. It’s not worth it.

Ignoring Ahth for what was possibly the first time since his Hatching, R’ahre raised his gaze to glare at F’lix. “And you would do better to wish that you’d never thrown that rock at Ahth. Pity we can’t go back and change the past, isn’t it?” The words came out through gritted teeth in a low hiss that displayed his fury more adeptly than his sarcasm. His accent was less defined than F’lix’s by far; R’ahre had actually put effort into twisting it to match those of the Southern Weyrfolk, given that his transfer papers claimed he’d come from Southern Hold – and while he’d been Searched there, he certainly hadn’t come from there. Fortunately, it seemed that people had such an odd mishmash of accents that nobody noticed the difference.

Ahth gave no outward indication of Saboth’s comment, the blue’s gaze still focused in swirling shades of green and blue amusement on F’lix – he was determined not to show his irritation; that would take away all the stealth of his revenge. However, he did reply, four small words, accompanied by no emotion whatsoever. So it would seem. Sylph scurried from R’ahre’s forearm to his shoulder, where she frilled more prominently at F’lix, spat defiantly, and stated loudly, Pretty ugly paper stupid, you are. Bad fisher ‘n pretty ‘n ugly. /Die/, you will. Incredibly eloquent as always, of course, though there was nothing confusing about the last statement. Bad blue-thing-man, throwing things at Hers! And at Ahth. She’d decided she liked the blue ever since he’d aided her in her plots; he was hers now. Bad thing-man-blue. Very, very bad.

[rii]

Tsk.

All he got for his efforts were a subtle threat and heated look? F'lix arched a slender eyebrow at the salamandyr--such annoying little creatures. How bravely it spat at him from the safety of it's bonded's arm. If that little worm even dared near him F'lix swore he would seize it and show the owner how easily it was to kill such rodents. Grab it around the neck and tail, stretch it long with the head backwards and snap goes the neck. The fact that those little beasts didn't go between made it all that much easier.

"Oh no, does this mean you're not going to be my friend?"

Mockery, plain and clear. F'lix nod stood on the shore, seeming to lazily rest his weight on one leg, hip angling with one hand planted firmly on the jutting hip bone. He may not look the part of a fighter, and F'lix gladly let people under-estimate him, but he had partaken in his fair share of fights--with Fort, common folk, and even with his own from Benden. His duty, when boiled down to it, consisted of slitting people's throats. Least to say, his lack of concern toward the tension building in the air was because he didn't worry about the consequences of his actions. He could take care of himself well enough. Just because he came to Selenitas didn't mean he was going to turn over a new leaf and suddenly become a brand new person.

Not like a damn southerner (and so F'lix dubbed R'ahre because of his dark skin tone) was going to a thing about it. They could spit out all the threats and insults they wanted, the fact they remained they all faltered when the time came to act. Besides, what was he going to do, him and his little dragonet? Nothing, especially when Saboth stood near by--appearing to not give the scene a second thought.

"Unless you are pumping yourself up to use that spear, why don't you flit off." F'lix said this distractedly while he frowned at this shirt clinging to his chest. He idly pulled at the fabric, paying no mind to the weyrling. The bluerider treated everyone with the same rudeness. He didn't need, nor did he want friends. Friends would stab you in the back, but an enemy was more reliable, they would always try to kill you. So why bother with being nice?

[Avu]

Sylph didn’t miss the look that she received. The green puffed up her frill, her entire body flattening on her perch, and she spat again. Evil blue-man-thing. She’d invade his weyr someday, she would – and she’d get Skink to help her. They’d shred everything he owned to pieces, see? He’d never even notice them there, either; it wasn’t lying to say that Sylph and her twin were extremely fast – and they liked to make break things, shred things, tear things up and leave the owners gaping. It was their specialty – a specialty that Ahth had discovered and exploited. You see, you see. Stupid pretty, you see, ki – Her words were cut off as R’ahre loosened one hand from the shaft of the spear, raised it, and caught Sylph up, depositing the green into his pocket. It wasn’t her battle, and anyway, she was distracting. He was still furious, still wanted to kill, and was trying to calm down before he did something stupid (one wasn’t supposed to get into fights as a Weyrlingrider – and he had never thought to until that moment), and Sylph’s rage didn’t help his own die down at all.

The comment made his lip curl in silent disgust, and brown eyes narrowed slightly. It was…very, very tempting to just pull out his knife and throw it, but in the end, the man wasn’t worth wasting a knife on. He wasn’t even worth wasting a spear on. R’ahre kept his head bowed, gaze focused on Ahth. The blue had made himself quite comfortable upon the ground, and yawned deliberately, though he kept silent. A talent of the hatchling’s, that – there was nothing at all restless about Ahth. He could sit still for hours at a time if he wanted to, not moving so much as a muscle, unless R’ahre interrupted him with something or another, which he rarely did – when Ahth stopped moving, he was eavesdropping, and that meant R’ahre was amused endlessly after he decided he’d done enough for that day.

When the bluerider spoke again, however, something snapped. Nobody had the right to throw rocks at someone just passing by, be it hatchling or Senior Weyrwoman; that it was his Ahth that had been mistreated was unforgivable. Even as he threw the spear, however, it wasn’t intended to kill – just to land squarely between the bluerider’s feet; unless he decided to step forward into it, it shouldn’t do anything at all. He had enough sense not to actually hurt anyone, even when instinct and anger said to kill them. Ahth’s control over him helped greatly, too; the blue didn’t want him to physically hurt F’lix because there were so many other ways to exact revenge – better ways, more satisfying ways, than silly savagery. Even if it did end in him just being hurt, at least he could make someone else take the blame, make them invincible, untouchable. Much more satisfying, no?

“Don’t worry, Benden. You’re not worth wasting that miserable excuse of a spear on, let alone a real blade.”

The disgust in his tone only brought out his own Benden accent further before he reached back into his pocket, holding it open to allow Sylph access to his shoulder again; the green Salamandyr skittered, silently, up to her accustomed perch, and she stood on all fours, frill widely spread and tail arched over her back again, staring at F’lix. Ahth’s gaze fell away from the bluerider, though the tilt of his head ensured that he was still within his gaze, and the hatchling pressed his muzzle against R’ahre’s hand loosely. Leave it. We are done here. He did not hurt me, and he did not hurt you, and you did not hurt him or His. The blue wasn’t begging; he wasn’t afraid. HisR’ahre had learned how to fight, how to defend himself, and he could defend himself – but Ahth was much more subtle than that. He didn’t approve of His being silly and acting on rage when it would be so much better to wait…for the opportune moment…before striking.

But R’ahre was arrogant – and his pride wouldn’t allow him to step away. Turning and leaving when he hadn’t actually struck a blow would probably be taken as cowardice – and it also presented his back to F’lix, something he simply was not ready to do. Two blades, he had on him, but those two would be utterly useless if he couldn’t see a blow coming. Backing away would be smarter, but it would also be taken as being scared, and while R’ahre could usually ignore his pride and leave, his fury had erased that. He wanted to win. Not kill him – not at Selenitas – but beat him. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, more in control, but still with a note of derisive mockery: “Tell me, Benden, do your friends usually throw spears at you? Or haven’t you any to judge by?”

[rii]

"Charming. You try to use my origin to demean me, yet I don't feel insulted. Try again."

He smiled, a cruel twist of his lips. How many times did he have to jab at the weyrling before he'd do more than gnash his teeth in retaliation? Hn. F'lix wrung out the bottom slack in his shirt to the best of his abilities. If he were alone he'd just strip it off but--no. He felt sick enough just standing there without his leathers, hair slicked back and unable to hide that damn scar. So exposed. At the moment, anyone could safely mistake F'lix for an entirely different person--except, of course, for his vicious nature, and the fact Saboth laid nearby. No other blue shared his unique coloration; sadly one that had been a direct cause of near-death.

Golden eyes narrowed, looking a bit thoughtful as he viewed the spear impaling the ground inches in front of his feet. He tsked softly at R'ahre. Coward. The weyrling had a chance, a good motivation, and had abandoned it. That accent though, defiantly northern--could this be another one of Fort's defects? If so, F'lix certainly could attract the best of animosity. F'lix knew he didn't recognize the boy(and that was exactly how F'lix saw R'ahre) but the blue rider had only bothered to remember people of importance and power back at Benden.

At R'ahre's last words, F'lix outright laughed--a strangely hollow sound. Then all at once he was moving, swiftly stepping forward to pluck the spear out of the ground. Knees were bent to keep his body low and as the spear came free, F'lix cut it in a horizontal half-arc; purposely shortening the reach so he didn't actually hit the weyrling or dragonet, but only just barely. Maybe the dimglow would take the hint to scram. People had been so stubborn lately. Didn't they understand he did not want company?

"Be glad you don't make a friend of me. Keep me as an enemy, at least then you'll know what to expect from me, and I of you."

[Avu]

Benden. Demeaning? It wasn’t actually his origin that was demeaning. It was the lack of a name, in R’ahre’s opinion, or even a real rank. Names indicated one was…sentient; lack thereof indicated the exact opposite – that was the way he thought of it. And besides, R’ahre had come from Benden Weyr, too; he’d spent over four Turns there and at the time, he’d considered it permanent. His home. He’d been antisocial, a recluse, there, but he’d lived without many scars to show for it; he’d had a weyrmate and he probably would still be at Benden had she not died. Had the new Weyrleader not been a bloody Fort defect. Ahth called it ‘That Place’ (derived from Baoth’s ‘That One’ name for Calistoth) or ‘The Before Place’, and now, that was exactly what it was. That Place, the Before Place. Before Ahth, before Sylph. He’d never go back, but he still didn’t think of it as demeaning. One hand rose, rubbing the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. Apparently F’lix had not recognized him – unsurprising; he’d managed to blend into the background at Benden very adeptly; most of the time, only his weyrmate and her dragon had noticed him at all, and that was the way he’d preferred it there.

He almost said so there and then, had F’lix not moved before he could, and then instinct took over; his left hand found the dirk in his belt, his right brushing Sylph off of his shoulder onto Ahth, ignoring her indignant squeak as she fell. The knife rose, not aggressive, merely defensive, sliding between himself and the blade as he deliberately sidestepped to put Ahth behind him, allowing the spear to grate along the steel of the dirk and continue its arc. Rather ironically, it was F’lix’s words that had calmed him measurably; the thought of Benden as demeaning instantly made him think of his weyrmate, the one who’d taught him how to fight – and fighting was no good when you were angry. Calm down…think straight; it’d be that much easier to control himself. He raised his other hand thoughtfully to rub one finger down the length of the dirk, though the motion wasn’t threatening in the least, as he stared at F’lix. Oh, he was still mad, make no mistake; whatever his reasoning, Ahth was his. His to punish as he saw fit and his to protect. It just wasn’t…overwhelming, anymore.

“Again. Don’t worry. I don’t befriend people who throw things at my dragon. Neither do I kill fools. You try again; I don’t find ‘Benden’ to be demeaning. Three guesses why, F’lix.”

Yes, he’d remembered – or he thought that was right, in any case. R’ahre had a good memory, and he associated the bluerider’s with something about a green’s death, and the corresponding death of the green’s rider and weyrmates. Of course, the account he received was probably a bit twisted, given that he hadn’t been at Benden at the time of said incident, but Aiwyre – his weyrmate – had told him and her green had provided an image of those involved (something very common with them; Aiwyre had been Weyr-bred and basically served as R’ahre’s education on the Weyr). The shade of blue on Saboth’s hide was…also indicative. It was F’lix, wasn’t it…? F’lix, F’ix, something like that. Well, regardless, that gave it away, if his looks and accent hadn’t; R’ahre knew his father was the Lord Holder of Nerat and he took after him physically a great deal; the number of people who hadn’t spotted anything was surprising, to be sure, and Nerat was beholden to Benden. Luckily for him, not that many people were smart enough to put two and two together, apparently.

Not throw, Rusa please, Sylph interjected, scrambling up his pant leg again and climbing rapidly up his shirt back to his shoulder. She still used his nickname from before the honorific was applied: Rusahre he was to her, and there was no changing that, much to Ahth’s annoyance. His right hand rose to stroke the Salamandyr meditatively, though R’ahre offered no reply to her as Ahth slunk out from behind his legs, flipping his wings over his back and then glancing at Saboth. Might I inquire as to why Yours felt the need to throw things at MineR’ahre and I? he questioned, his voice quite civil, as if he conducted conversations with the dragons of those who threw things at him on a regular basis. Which, fortunately, he didn’t. To be quite honest, I feel that I have a right to know, given that we were on the receiving end of his…attempts. The blue spoke quite frankly; much more straightforward than weaving around the point. He wanted to know, because the more he knew, the easier it would be to get revenge. Polite Ahth may be, but he was no fool; he was appropriately indignant.

[rii]

"Speak your high words. Whatever helps you to sleep at night."

F'lix advanced, hearing R'ahre's words, but merely stuffing them into his mind to be later reviewed when he felt the need. The blue rider closed the distance, striking out with the spear--diagonal slashes that traced from right shoulder to left hip, then left shoulder to right hip. Moves the other would have to block with the dirk to avoid to getting hit. What, the other had produced a weapon so F'lix might as well make R'ahre put it to use. Not that it would be too terrible to get cut, spears were made to pierce not slash.

Knowing his name did not bring on any sudden thoughts. F'ur had known his name from asking his dragon--damn gossiping dragons--and the weyrling could have done the same through the dragonnet. He took a quick step to the side, making it wide to put distance between them. And then, quite amusingly, F'lix stuck the spear into the ground and used it as a leaning cane. His hand was back on his hip, and a rather smug looking smirk adorning his scarred features.

"What is it with people and being so stubborn? Don't you get it? Am I not making myself clear? Go Away." He made a lazy shooing motion at the weyrling. The boy's earlier words drifted back to the front of his mind. Hn, so the other didn't think Benden served as a demeaning term. Riight. "I don't really care what goes on in that head of yours. If you have something to say, spit it out. I refuse to play guessing games."

Saboth rumbled boredly, laying down fully to cross his forelegs in front of him, long tail curling around his body and wings finally folding against his sides. His head shifted to regard Ahth. You bring back an old memory. And he meant Anth specifically, it had nothing to do with R'ahre. Saboth didn't elaborate, and went back to watching his bonded.

[Avu]

His lip curled into a definite snarl, soundless, but vicious nonetheless; being threatened with a spear was not completely unexpected, but it definitely was new; he hadn’t actually been in a fight since leaving Benden; at the egg-theft, he’d killed one of the hopeful-thieves, but they hadn’t been expecting it – it’d been a simple throat-slitting from behind. The closest thing that had come to a fight had, ironically, been with the Candidatemaster – and then, he’d just had to restrain himself from actually gutting the man in the middle of the kitchens out of instinct. Overreacting jerk. Pfft. He was planning to ask M’kai to spar with him eventually – once he managed to balance his schedule out a little, given that there was no time currently, but he hadn’t gotten around to it. Ahth gave a slight hiss at his side, and Sylph’s frill fanned out vividly as R’ahre brought the dirk up to block the first strike, and took a step back to put himself out of the range of the second – again, neither motion was aggressive. Dragonriders didn’t turn on each other in Selenitas. It was different here – had to remember that. Grah.

Eyes narrowed, head tilted curiously as he watched F’lix. R’ahre couldn’t help sniffing slightly at the smirk on the other’s face; arrogant, wasn’t he? Oh, R’ahre knew he could be arrogant, too, but it didn’t show as much (at least, he hoped it didn’t). Dark hair fell across his face as he bowed his head slightly, a position common for him – it was a mannerism he’d picked up because it looked deferential, which made people ignore him previously, and it still allowed him to eye everyone. There was nothing deferential about it now, though; the dirk was slid back into its sheath and he raised both hands to scoop Sylph off of his shoulder; the little green’s body was nearly flat as she spat at F’lix, frill extended and quivering to its full extent, the jagged dark green markings along it defined. The Salamandyr skittered over his hands, coming to rest on his middle finger, tail twined around it, staring defiantly at F’lix.

“You’ve made yourself quite clear, thank you,” he replied softly, brown eyes rising towards F’lix’s face before dropping to Sylph again; he clicked his tongue reassuringly at the green. “Don’t think you’ve given me chance to make myself clear, though.” Eyes narrowed slightly at the idea of a ‘guessing game’, but his voice stayed level, cold. “This is Ahth.” He pointed at the blue. “I don’t care what your reasons were, and I don’t care how justified you feel. If you ever try to hurt him again, I’ll see to it that you’re reunited with Kalierre.” Actually, since the woman was a dragonhealer, it wouldn’t be Kalierre that F’lix would end up seeing, but, while she’d left Benden just after R’ahre had arrived, everyone at Benden – and probably at Fort, too – knew her name. Not so with R’wign. “And there was no need to guess – try common sense. Or haven’t you any to speak of? Can’t say I know many Riders who like rocks being thrown at their dragons.” Shifting Sylph into one hand, the other settled in a clear show of protectiveness and possessiveness on the young blue’s neck, before he asked, his voice even quieter than before, with an undeniable note of venom, “Am I making myself clear?”

A memory. A memory? Was the man stupid? Ahth eyed Saboth a moment before his gaze fell on F’lix, impersonal; annoyance flickered within him. A memory! HisR’ahre would never be that stupid. Did people have to be stupid? It would be so much easier if they weren’t. He flipped his tail again, eyes gleaming as he wound his body silently around R’ahre’s legs again, ignoring Sylph’s quiet hissing. And is there anything we can do to help that? he asked softly, the question directed at Saboth again. It seems very foolish to allow a memory to incite such rash actions. Okay, so it was more than foolish – it was downright stupid. He held grudges, Ahth did, but he didn’t act stupid like that. Futh had gotten the message and he’d done nothing – and it had been just as satisfying as throwing rocks, he suspected; it certainly didn’t make him look as silly.

[rii]

Ugh. F'lix made a show of leaning the spear right, then left--expressing his growing boredom. He lifted a hand to tousle his wet hair, then directing the half-dry strands to partially cover the left side of his face. Ah, a fraction better. He continue to run his fingers through the rest of his shorter hairs, those of which barely reached past the width of his fingers. The only long part of his hair being the strands framing his face. He wanted to go dry off and re-dress, but the boy (Out of sheer stubborn sense of pride. What a fool) remained behind.

Golden eyes lazily returned to R'ahre as he spoke softly, the tone not fooling F'lix--he himself often used the same mannerisms. Yet to see a man taller than himself, armed with a decent weapon, reverting to such a forced calm, cold demeanor just amused F'lix. It took a certain breed of man to be able to intimidate the blue rider.

No, F'lix did not give the other male a chance to clarify--there was nothing to clear up; and aside from that matter, F'lix didn't care. He gazed nonchalantly over the river as R'ahre spoke. Maybe if the weyrling got the chance to spit out whatever was on his chest he would finally leave. Oh and F'lix knew his actions did not have a reasonable justification behind them, but that had never stopped him from acting on a whim. Hm, and more threats of bodily harm. How cute. F'lix smirked to himself.

"You talk a lot for someone from Benden," He arched a brow while turning his face to regard R'ahre with disinterest. Oh if F'lix actually paused long enough to care it was quite obvious, but why give the impression he gave a croon about the boy? "I don't know why you feel the need to prattle on. Yes, I threw a rock at your little dragonet--" Purposely not saying the blue's name. "--and you take great offense to that, so much you heed me feeble warnings. I'd think, since you are stressing we are from the same stock, that you'd know words carry little strength. Make your point in actions, weyrling, or no one will ever take you seriously."

Saboth's eyes swirled with greens and blues so much like the rolling ocean. He was amused, and he again turned his head to the dragonet. Grow. Saboth had always been a dragon of few words. It let people wonder what he was really thinking, and much like his bonded, people underestimated his abilities. He had a wonderful memory and developed an understanding for humans--mainly because of his bonded's unfriendly front. Grow he had said, and meant it quite literally. If Anth had been a month or two older, the entire situation would have never occurred. If you remember this, are you to say it would not affect your actions? Again the waves of blue and green, crashing against each other in a deep, rumbling laughter. This is but a small slight, do well to turn the other ridge. Mine does not practice sympathy, and neither do I.

Almost, as if sensing his dragon's words, F'lix again leaned against the spear with eyes calmly fixed on the weyrling. "If you are expecting an apology, you are going to be sorely disappointed."

[Avu]

Oh, good bluerider. It finally clicked. He almost rolled his eyes, but resisted – not that F’lix would have seen anyway, given the way that his hair fell across his eyes and brushed against his jaw when he bowed his head the way he was. Nevertheless, R’ahre did smirk; he mouthed ‘congratulations’ at the bluerider, gaze flicking up towards him again. Still, it irked him, the context – talked a lot, did he? He hadn’t said much; went to show that this idiot in front of him just fit the Benden stereotype perfectly, didn’t he? Brute strength wasn’t everything, and, as Ahth had said, there were much more satisfying ways for revenge. Oh, the blue had memorized his face, and even if Ahth hadn’t, R’ahre had. Bah – Benden background or not, R’ahre had a sense of justice. Warning came first; the only time that was exempt was when the warning should have been implied to start with – i.e. in the middle of a fight. He knew he wasn’t the typical Bendenite, and he took a kind of pride in that. Much better to achieve his ends by means other than violence; if F’lix didn’t know that, more pity to him.

“And you are exactly the kind of idiot who gave Benden the reputation it has,” he replied, still speaking quietly. “Glad we’re getting to know each other.” The sarcasm twisted around his words before he absently glanced up at the sky to judge the time; he couldn’t stay in view of the Weyr too long just in case I’fael decided to hunt him down for a lecture or something. The irritation he’d felt with the Drudges had faded and was almost unrecognizable now, hmm. “Since we’re getting so close, I’d advise you to get your ears cleaned. I said I didn’t kill fools, and I said you weren’t worth wasting a knife on – or did you miss that?” He meant it, too; R’ahre didn’t want to go around wading in blood constantly; he had friends and a life, thank you very much, and as far as he was concerned, only the excessively paranoid, excessively arrogant, or just downright abrasive people didn’t. See: F’lix. He’d do it, for Ahth, but for the moment, he was content to allow Ahth to plan his own revenge; the blue had displayed an unusual talent in plotting. He and Sylph got along fantastically as long as both of them were plotting – they shared that aspect.

F’lix’s show of boredom might have been utterly ignored by R’ahre – but Ahth took note of it, his gaze focused intently on the bluerider; the dark blue dragon made no movement. He resembled nothing more than a statue, dark hide gleaming slightly under the light of the sun. Even Saboth’s reply didn’t make him look away from F’lix, even though he considered the answer he’d received. Grow. Grow? So – what, it was his size? Or his age? Ahth moved, stretching fluidly before he settled down again. His size was quite impressive; Ahth was large – but that either his size or age had incited the Rider’s…throwing of rocks…only made Ahth distinctly unimpressed. How…completely…stupid. Was it possible to be that stupid? His scorn was not displayed outwardly, his gaze sliding away from F’lix at last to fasten imperturbably upon Saboth. I certainly won’t do anything to anyone just because they look like Yours, he answered dryly, though he made no reply to the advice. Pfft. As if he’d take it!

R’ahre’s gaze flickered towards the river, and his smile was sour. An apology? Riiight. “Just because I’m optimistic doesn’t mean I believe in miracles. C’mon, Ahth; let’s leave him to his spearing water.” Yes, water, since there were no fish on the shore – he assumed that meant F’lix had not been successful. The blueweyrling spun on his heel, head still bowed slightly, hand resting on Ahth, who rose gracefully to his feet and followed in the same motion; his eyes gleamed, focusing for another instant upon F’lix, before he moved ahead of His. Sylph was not quite as content to bide her time, however; the green’s wings flared as she skittered to R’ahre’s other shoulder to spit at the Rider again, adding defiantly, Pretty pretty, so stupid pretty. Too quick, fish are. Too slow, you. Sloooow stupid pretty butthead stupid. See, you will. Fish never get. Never. Because of course the fish would follow her command and avoid F’lix. Of course. Was there any doubt?

Good luck to Yours in his spearing wa – erm, /fish/. It seems he’ll need it. Ahth’s comment was nothing short of polite, though he didn’t turn to look back – either at Saboth and F’lix, or His and Sylph. He was thinking.

[rii]

This one was really grating on his nerves.

F'lix expression became vacant. His golden eyes regarded R'ahre in silence, but reflected nothing of his inner musings. No longer was there mockery or anger, only a hint of something cold, and dark. He tired greatly of people. They thought so highly of themselves, protected by the laws of the Weyr, all so detached from reality. It sickened him.

Saboth rose to his feet, coming up next to his bonded with a loud, thundering rumble. F'lix absently raised a hand to touch the dragon's muzzle, but his golden eyes remained on the weyrling. "You forget one thing," His voice was low, soft and carrying his noteworthy subtle growl. Before he had even finished Saboth had used a sweep of his wings to launched forward. One large wing flared out to knock R'ahre into the river and Saboth moved his bulk inbetween dragonet and weyrling; to prevent Anth from reaching R'ahre. F'lix had not been the only one to harbor ill feelings towards the weyrlingpair.

The moment Saboth had moved, F'lix was also moving, and as soon as R'ahre hit the water he sprang on the taller male. He dug his knee, backed by his weight, into R'ahre's breast bone while the other leg knelt in the water next to the other--more precisely, hugging his leg against the hilt of the weyrling's dirk. Both arms were stretched to full length, hands pushing strongly against R'ahre's jaw to push the other's head under the shallow water. He ignored any thrashing or attempts to claw away his hands. F'lix had an impressive pain tolerance. He just stared down at the other's face, his own expression a blank slate.

"Never turn your back on an enemy." And F'lix planned to make it quite clear that he was nothing less than that. Someone to hate without question. Didn't want to leave to leave an opening to let anyone think otherwise.

Don't kill him. F'lix reminded himself of this, instantly sneering at the realization he could not get away with drowning the weyrling. The blue rider's fingers convulsed, tempted to ignore his mind and simply keep the idiot's sputtering under the water. Oh he'd let him up.. eventually.

[Requiem]

And such a lovely view he had, too. F'ur perched in his branches, having come to the jungles in search of something interesting to do...which ended, as it seemed to these days, with him napping in a tree. For whatever reason felines simply didn't amuse him anymore. They had become too easy to hunt singularly, and he wasn't interested in taking on a pride and having a lovely conversation with his intestines while the pretties feasted on the few parts of his body with actual meat on the bones. F'ur was too familiar with the creatures' habits to not have a healthy fear when it came to becoming food for the beasts; they seemed to enjoy keeping their meals live and kicking for as long as possible.

A snarky comment from Inocenth about F'ur's favorite 'kitten' while the man was dozing prompted him to notice F'lix, whom he watched with some interest. The man's movements held a subtle appeal, but, beyond that, there was nothing like watching someone when they thought no one was there to witness their behavior. You could learn a lot about a person that way, that you could.

It had been all he could do not to give himself away when F'lix flopped into the water. Had to agree with R'ahre on that one...such a graceful set of movements.

Witnessing the interaction - and only catching the occasional word here and there - F'ur found himself intrigued by how eloquent a person's body language could be. It was almost more fun to make up the conversation that went with those movements, and he entertained himself quite well for a time, before it became clear that F'lix might just...

And yes. He did. F'ur sighed. Silly polecat...what would the dragon of a weyrling do if his rider was being attacked? Freak out and tell someone (perhaps the entire weyr) that's what. Nor was F'ur entirely convinced this wasn't a murder attempt. At the very least, F'lix didn't look interested in letting R'ahre up any time soon.

As F'ur would much rather take care of the Benden bluerider himself, rather than let Selenitas lynch him for being a fool, the older man dropped lithely from the branches, landing on his toes. Good thing Saboth was paying attention to the baby dragon and little else...

He bent into his knees as soon as he struck earth and streaked past Saboth, settling for the most direct route where it came to F'lix. The flying tackle caught the other bluerider high along the shoulders and carried both well away from R'ahre, who would not be further abused by the flailing of limbs that was likely to follow. F'ur slid behind F'lix, his arms circling up in front of the younger bluerider's shoulders and locking behind F'lix's neck, effectively immobilizing the arms. Then he stood in the river, shaking the water from his hair. Niiice. F'lix was just short enough that he was relegated to tiptoes. What a perfect height. F'ur bit back a snicker.

"And what did I tell you about playing nice, eh?" he stated, loud enough for R'ahre to easily hear. He winked at the weyrling. "Hope he hasn't been causing you too much trouble. Meant to get him declawed and fixed, but he slipped away, the rascal."

[Avu]

In some way, he’d been forewarned. Certainly Sylph had still been looking back at the other bluepair. The green’s sharp mental hiss and her frill rising again made his head half turn – and that was about all he had time before Saboth’s wing struck him and he stumbled. If he was lucky, he might have caught himself – but only if R’ahre tried, and he didn’t. Sylph couldn’t swim; she became priority. He snatched her from his shoulder and threw the Salamandyr, reinforcing the motion with a sharp command to both Sylph and Ahth. STAY AWAY. Selfish, was he? Possibly; the reason he didn’t want Ahth and Sylph to come any closer (not that Ahth could) was because he didn’t want them to be killed or hurt. If anyone had to be, he’d rather it be him – in the case of the former, they’d all die, but at least he wouldn’t be without them. He had time to inhale once before he struck the water, and, as it turned out, that would be one of the few breaths he got; instinctively, both hands had gone backwards to break his fall, but his throwing Sylph had ensured that it was too late; both palms slipped on moss-covered rocks and his head went under, though fortunately the water slowed his fall enough that he didn’t crack his head open on any rocks.

The pressure on his chest, as well as the fact that he wasn’t allowed to lift his head, though, almost made him panic. If there was one element he hated, it had to be water; slowed down everything he tried to do and even if he did manage to worm his dirk out, the blow wouldn’t have enough power behind it to do any real damage. Fortunately, that wasn’t the only dirk about him; R’ahre always kept two – the visible one, and one in his right boot; he was ambidextrous when it came to fighting (something drilled into him; wouldn’t do to be crippled if he lost the use of one hand), even though his left hand was dominant otherwise. His left hand rose from the water; eyes narrowed, squinting through the water, fingers seeking F’lix’s pressure point. Not that he thought it’d be enough; it was more a distraction as he twisted. Not unnecessary thrashing; that’d just use up what little oxygen he had faster. His right hand slid into his boot and pulled out the knife, and he thrust it. Not up – not really; he was aiming for F’lix’s stomach, and that was more out than up. And if he managed to accidentally castrate him, that was good too.

And – the hell? – he was gone. The pressure disappeared, and R’ahre sat bolt upright, not taking the time to catch his breath or clear his eyes of water before he half-rolled and half-crawled onto dry ground, the other dirk clearing its sheath as well even as he blinked water out of his eyes. The appearance of the other bluerider confused him, but hey; he’d just been half-drowned: It was to be expected. Ahth offered him a replay of the events, the dark blue hatchling still seated where he’d been cut off. The blue was nothing if not calm. HisR’ahre could take care of himself, he had been told to stay away; that meant there was nothing he could do. No need to panic over that. He might have called Baoth or Morendoth if R’ahre failed, but they were the only ones he would call: Morendoth mainly because he grudgingly admitted the brown was his Weyrlingmaster and therefore had responsibility over them. Sylph had fled directly to Ahth, and the green was curled around one of the blue’s neck ridges, spitting viciously at Saboth and F’lix both.

It was a moment before R’ahre stood, and could speak, completely ignoring F’ur’s words when he did. One hand rose, the back rubbing across his eyes and pushing sopping hair out of his face. “Let him go,” were the words that he spat, his face as composed as he could manage. Which was admittedly not very, but his mind was clear enough. “Let him go, since he clearly wants to fight. Let’s see how well he does without his dragon helping him.” Use every advantage you have – that had been drilled into him, yes. But that Saboth had felt the need to help F’lix when he’d already turned to leave, presenting one of the greatest advantages of all – the wave of contempt was nearly choking. Ahth flipped his tail from his perch beyond Saboth, yawned, and then glanced with apparent disinterest at the scene. MineR’ahre. I’m taking Sylph back to the Weyrling Barracks, he stated quietly. I am not likely to try to bite Saboth’s, but she certainly is. It would do better to remove temptation.

Good. Go. Go find Baoth. That had been, apparently, exactly what Ahth had wanted to hear; the blue rose to his feet, threw a glance back at the gathering, and then started to pad away from it without a backwards glance, in the direction of the Weyr. Sylph chirruped anxiously, but she clung obediently to the blue, skittering down the length of his spine to watch RusaHers disappear from view. We will do better away from there, sister, was Ahth’s soft comment. Baoth will help us, as will Skink, and perhaps Showoff. I promise you they will not get away with this.